


What the Water Brought Me

by bela013



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-02
Updated: 2013-04-02
Packaged: 2017-12-07 07:03:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/745670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bela013/pseuds/bela013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A deviant story of what could have happened had Davos' blade connected with Melisandre.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What the Water Brought Me

That was a sin, the only sin that would truly disgust me. She could live as my sons sunk deeper into Blackwater Bay. My boys were dead and all she did was stare into my eyes. Not for long. In a single motion, I have my dagger out, its sharp blade pressed to her skin.

 

The tip, sunk into her, right above her heart, blood dripping from the wound, wetting her red dress. Melisandre did not scream, nor did she ask for help. Melisandre looked. Right at me, or into myself, I do not know. But Melisandre looked.

 

Thin fingers, delicate and long, gripped mine. She was too strong. Stronger than she looked. She was a lie.

 

“Do not despair” soft was her voice, bringing memories of Salladhor’s words. She sung to her victims. Will she sing for me too? Will she sing in her devilish tongue as her eyes burn my soul? Will she sing as I burn like my sons did?

 

Her hands close down on mine, around the hilt of the dagger. I am doomed. I am dead. She will over power me, and she will kill me.

 

Melisandre applies force. Fingers wrap around mine. Her skin in soft and smooth. She does not pull the dagger away. She sink it into her chest. Melisandre does not look away.

 

“Do not cry” warm and tender, she asked in a lover’s caress. Melisandre is not my master.

 

I can hear crying. Loud and terrible. I look to her, but all she has is clear red eyes. Melisandre did not cry. Melisandre bleed and I cried.

 

My fear of her was gone. She could survive the cold blade. She was calm. She did not cry. Melisandre was strong. Melisandre did not die.

 

She could help me. Help my sons. Help my wife in her certain grief.

 

Between sobs, I ordered her to bring my sons back to me. I screamed at her. I spoke to her.

 

As she let go of my hands and the hilt of the dagger. I sunk to my knees. I sunk and I begged her to bring them back to me. I cried and begged.

 

What is pride when my sons are dead? No care for the soldiers in the room with them, or the king I was ready to die for. All I could see was her and all the things she promised. The things she could do.

 

Kneeling at the ground, I could clearly see her blood gushing out, dripping down her body, staining her already red dress with a darker shade. Our hands were stained too. Red was her blood.

 

As my sobs died on my throat, I could see and listen again. The king ordered the guards to leave. But his grace did not stay. The guards escorted him to wherever he wanted to go.

 

I can not blame him. I wouldn’t want to stay in my pitiful presence either if I had such choice.

 

“I tell you not to despair, and you create hell in your own mind” the witch did not leave me.

 

This could he heaven. Or this could be hell. There was still a chance.

 

Melisandre did not circle me. She didn’t even stare down at me. But she did not ignore me.

 

Reaching for the dagger, she struggled with it for a moment. Muttering under her breath about bones and what not. It was difficult to hear over my own breathing.

 

But I could see as each tug from her, spilled her blood about, making it rain on my face, hot like the rain in the dessert. Hot like fire.

 

“I tell you not to cry, and you cry even for the sons that live” in a fluid motion, she trows the dagger across the room, as if it did not carve her chest open mere moments ago.

 

My hand go for my neck, looking for my Luck. It’s not there. And the list of things that were once mine, but lay at the bottom of Blackwater keep on growing.

 

So I grasp onto her dress. Tugging onto her skirts. Pulling her to me. As my fingers were cut, so was she. She was Luck.

 

She has to see me, listen to me. Melisandre was Luck and I needed my Luck more than ever.

 

Even as she knelled to the ground in front of me. I kept on pulling at her dress, and only stopped as I had my arms around her waist and head protected in the crock of her neck.

 

"Only Azor Ahai can come back from the dead" I don't want to hear. But with my ear at her throat. I could listen to every vibration of her voice.

 

Her arms encircle me, just like her hands did to mine. Her whole body was a mock to me. Melisandre was soft and smelled like apples.

 

I cried again. She could not help me. I could not protect them. I failed. I killed my own sons.

 

"Please" like before, long and delicate, her fingers are on my flesh. Caressing my neck, cradling my head to her neck. She handled me like one handles a baby.

 

I did not care. I wailed like one.

 

"Don't give up" my skin was burned from the salt of the sea and the hotness of the sun. I hurt all over. Melisandre was no longer hot on my skin.

 

Melisandre was cool and soothing.

 

"Think of the sons that still live" her lips brush my brow, my cheek, my mouth. At each of them, the pain walked farther away.

 

Melisandre could not bring me back my dead son, but she could cure me, so I could protect the ones that still live.

 

"And think of me" her mouth stilled over mine, pecking it at every word "Think of me alone in the darkness"

 

Melisandre helped me. Much like his grace did all this years back. Melisandre was Luck.

 

"You are not alone" my voice is weak. My throat is dry. I am tired.

 

My eyes close as if to sleep. My body still pressed to hers. Melisandre would look out for me in my sleep. As I will look out for her in waking hours.

 

I could not see, but I could feel her. Feel her happiness.

 

Melisandre has finally found what she was looking for.

 

Whatever that is.


End file.
